


This Close to the Ocean, Who Has Time to Stay Dry?

by theleaveswant



Category: Inception (2010), The Losers (2010)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fisting, Multi, RACK - Freeform, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>while the rest of their teams celebrate a job well done in a private dining room, Aisha and Ariadne take their party to the restaurant bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Close to the Ocean, Who Has Time to Stay Dry?

The girl has been watching her all night. Aisha hasn't been so clumsy as to actually catch her in the act, but she knows she's doing it. She doesn't think anyone else at the table has noticed—to Ariadne's considerable credit, given the average observational competence of the assembled company.

The job went well, after all. Aisha can tell she's not the only one surprised by that, but no one dares to jinx it by saying as much out loud. They'll talk about anything else, ten outlaws riding the high of getting out alive, catching pleasure on the wing in a tastefully lit private room in an up-market Japanese restaurant, overlooking the nighttime neon of a downtown Vancouver street. The sake is plentiful and the kitchen's dignified reputation well deserved.

Aisha rolls her head from side to side and listens to her vertebrae cracking like dead branches. She shouldn't be this tense after a successful mission, but it's been so long since anything went this smoothly that Aisha is afraid to let her guard down. She releases a slow breath and wills the tension out of her shoulders. Maybe she should call out her sweet little admirer—gently, of course, subtly—and take her someplace more secluded to work out some of this restless energy.

Clay and the other team's caporegime, Cobb, have their heads together at the far end of the table. Discussing next moves, definitely, but possibly not exclusively. There's something predatory in the way Clay watches his fellow American, something warm and slow in the way the other man smiles back. Maybe she's not the only one with heat to burn and a taste for something new.

The table rattles and Aisha's attention shifts closer, just in time to miss the punchline of whatever story Pooch was telling. Cougar smirks and Jensen, though he's blushing beet red, looks more proud than embarrassed as he stoppers his giggling with a knuckle between his teeth. Their new friends seem well pleased, too, and Pooch preens under their attention.

"That never happened," Ariadne says from next to Cobb, looking equally dubious and delighted.

"No, I believe it," opines the pillow-lipped grifter next to her. "In fact, when I was with the S.A.S.—shut up, I was!"

He turns an affectionate glare on the skinny American snickering on his other side. "I know you were. I'm laughing about what happened when they discharged you."

The first speaker, Eames, chuckles gleefully. "Yes, well. That's another story entirely."

"Oh, now we've got to hear this," Pooch says over Jensen's wide-eyed "Tell it! Tellittellittellittellit!"

The bearded scientist across from Aisha has to put his thimble of green tea back down on the table before he spills it all, he's wheezing that hard with laughter. While Eames and Arthur engage in some kind of competitive eye-sex, he collects himself enough to say, "Well, the _official_ version says . . ."

Watching Yusuf mop spilled tea from his shirtfront as he talks reminds Aisha of how much she's had to drink, and she excuses herself with a hand on Cougar's shoulder.

Ariadne's sneakier than she gave her credit for; Aisha hadn't even noticed the girl was following her until she slipped around the rest room door after her.

"Hi," she says.

"Hello," Aisha answers, and chooses the nearer of the two stalls, scanning the room out of habit to make sure it is otherwise empty.

Ariadne pushes into the stall after her and shuts the door behind her.

"Do you want something?" Aisha asks, playing dumb, playing safe. Ariadne bites her lip and nods. Her pupils are huge. "And what is it that you want?"

Ariadne's eyes flicker towards the toilet. "Sit down? With your pants off?" She licks her lips and adds, "please."

Aisha's blood warms for the tremor in Ariadne's voice, and the rigid conviction underlying it—she's plainly terrified, but she's not backing down. She nods, consenting, but warns, "I do actually have to pee."

Ariadne nods again, more quickly. "I want to watch you."

Aisha quirks a smile and starts unbuttoning her pants. The girl is even braver than she thought. Shimmying her skin-tight clothes over her hips, she asks, "Won't your boyfriend mind us sneaking off together?"

"Won't yours?" Ariadne rebuts, then cocks her head. "Which one do you think is my boyfriend?"

Aisha mirrors her head tilt and sits down, pants below her knees so she can spread her legs wide open. "Which one do you think is mine?"

Ariadne looks Aisha over carefully from her face down to her boots, lingering on her ripe pink cunt in its halo of groomed black hair. Aisha glances down at the floor, smoothing her hands down her bare thighs. She takes a couple of deep, calming breaths, fighting through her feelings of exposure and arousal before she is able to let go. She savours the sensation, the steady draining relief of pressure, and feels a moment of sadness when the flow slows and stops, as if she is now too empty and despairs of ever being filled again.

Like a mind-reader, Ariadne picks her up from off the toilet and pushes her against the stall's solid outer wall, clasping a hand over her mound, damp with the last drops of her urine as well as with the juice of her arousal.

"Tell me you want me to fuck you," she says, and Aisha can't help bucking up against her hand.

"Do it," Aisha says, growling. "Put your hand inside me. Fuck me. Do it now."

Ariadne moans and drives two fingers into Aisha's slippery cunt. Aisha clamps her muscles tight around them, then whines.

"More. Stretch me." Ariadne licks her lips and adds two more digits, her pinkie and index fingers tucked in front of the middle two.

Aisha's eyes roll back in her head and she growls as Ariadne fucks her. She's getting close, the long muscles in her thighs starting to tense and twitch, when Ariadne asks, "Can I?"

Aisha blinks sweat out of her eyes, wondering what she's talking about, then feels Ariadne's thumb nudge against the front of her cunt when her fingers next sink inside her. She nods, one finger raised to request a pause, and shifts her legs farther apart. She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, willing her muscles to relax and allow Ariadne's hand—delicate, and folded as small as she can make it—to push in past the knuckles.

"Oh," Aisha gasps as she feels her resistance give way. She clasps Ariadne by the upper arms and shudders when she starts to curl her fingers inside her.

"God," says Ariadne, and when Aisha looks in her face she's looking back, lush lips parted, big eyes wide in rapt fascination.

Aisha comes with her eyes open, her whole body clenching and releasing around Ariadne's fist. She leans her head back against the wall for a moment, blood roaring in her ears, until she feels the filling hand slowly withdraw, and she whines a little as the trailing fingertips drag another spasm from her body.

"Here."

Aisha looks down to see Ariadne's hand hovering in front of her face, shiny with her own secretions; Ariadne's face behind her hand is hopeful and hungry, her cherry lips slightly parted. Smiling, Aisha takes Ariadne's hand in her own and licks it up the palm from wrist to fingertip, swallowing down her own musky juices.

Aisha tightens her grip when she feels Ariadne start to pull away. She finishes the job, sucking each finger clean, then pulls Ariadne in tight against her. She really is a _little_ girl—Aisha is slightly built, but the top of Ariadne's head barely comes up to her nose—and her face is so child-like, so deceptively innocent, that she feels almost guilty for being here with her, but Aisha knows better than to believe in faces, and she trusts Ariadne to continue to tell her what she wants. "Don't I get a turn?"

Ariadne blushes, _now_ she blushes, and lets Aisha dance them around so that it's Ariadne with her back pressed up against the wall. Without once breaking eye contact, Aisha finds the fastener on Ariadne's jeans under her tunic top and ticks the zipper open tooth by tooth. She reaches her steady hand inside and palms the girl's mound through her moist panties.

"Isn't there anything you want to tell me?"

"What?"

"Something about what you want?"

"Oh," Ariadne breathes a laugh, "I want you to fuck me."

"How?"

"Um . . . if you could just rub the sides of my clit? And pinch it a little? I usually get off pretty quickly that way."

Aisha wants to ask, 'and what if I don't just want to get you off quickly?' but she concedes that this might not be the best place to dally, and not just because their respective teammates could start worrying about their absence at any moment—that is, if they ever stop flirting long enough to notice it. She'll have to make sure they get another chance, somewhere they can take their time.

"Your friends," Aisha says as she slips her hand inside Ariadne's underwear and finds her swollen clit. "Do they know you do this? Fuck strange women in bathrooms? Make them piss for you first?"

Ariadne shakes her head. "There's a lot of things your friends don't know about you either."

Aisha grins and pinches Ariadne's clit to hear her gasp, then starts rubbing either side of it like she'd been told. Ariadne shuts her eyes and tilts her head back. Her soft mouth opens slackly as her breathing grows heavier, and Aisha rubs the pad of her thumb roughly across those plump lips.

Ariadne's advice is solid; after only a couple of minutes of persistent friction she squeaks and arches up on the balls of her feet, palms splayed flat against the wall.

"Are you close?" Aisha asks, easing off to stroke the length of her new friend's slick labia.

Ariadne nods. "Really close. Don't stop."

Aisha purrs and bites Ariadne's shoulder through her shirt, then tugs her tight pants down off her hips. She pushes Ariadne down onto the toilet seat and thrusts her hand back between her thighs. "Do it," she commands.

"I can't," Ariadne blinks up at her, thighs tensing.

"You can," Aisha says, squeezing the back of Ariadne's neck with her dry hand while she rolls circles on her clit with the other. "Just let go."

Ariadne closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through pursed lips, then opens her mouth wide in an airless sob when the orgasm hits her like suckerpunch. Aisha presses her face against her neck and holds her steady as she shakes on the seat, the hot flow of her piss over Aisha's fingers broken into spurts by the contractions of her pelvic muscles.

Aisha holds her there until her breath comes back to normal, then takes a half-step back. Ariadne looks up at her. Her face is pink and there's water on her cheeks. "You okay?"

Ariadne nods and dries her eyes on the back of her hand. "That was intense." She accepts the paper Aisha hands her and wipes herself off, then stands up and steps toward the door to put her clothes back together.

Aisha tosses the crumpled paper she'd used to dry her own hand into the bowl and watches it sit for a moment on the surface like a water lily before she flushes and it swirls down the drain along with both of their liquid contributions. She pulls up her pants and follows Ariadne out to the sink. They both soap and rinse their hands thoroughly, then Aisha reaches for the towel while Ariadne turns the tap to cold and presses a chilled hand to her face and neck.

Their eyes meet in the mirror and they both break into giggles. "They're gonna know we got up to something, you go back to the table all glowy like that—"Ariadne's cheeks flushed brighter—"but do you think any of them are going to guess exactly what?"

"I have no idea," Ariadne says, flicking water from her fingertips into the basin. "I suppose it's possible. What I'm wondering is, will they all be there when we get back, or have they started sneaking off too? Or do you think they graduated straight from footsie to all fucking on top of the table?"

"There's a thought. Damn, now I'm going to be disappointed if they haven't."

"Maybe with a little encouragement?"

"I like the way you think," Aisha grins and wraps an arm around Ariadne, planting a kiss on her temple before escorting her out of the salt-scented bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> Also features dirty talk, voyeurism, sex in "public" (an empty restaurant bathroom), rough sex, fisting, enthusiastic consent and a pinch of ageplay. Participants are implied to have been drinking but are not drunk. Alludes to other 'ships of varying number and gender complement.


End file.
